The Big Three One
by suspect tomatoes
Summary: Just a one-shot dedicated to Jeff Hardy on his birthday. Mentions Jeff/OC.


**A/N: Just a celebration story. Happy Birthday, Jeff Hardy! (This is in Jeff's Point of View, by the way. And in the future. Jeff only gets Wednesdays and Thursdays off, so it wouldn't have made sense if it wasn't Wednesday. So technically, Jeff's birthday was three days ago. And he's with Jill in this story, but it's not the same Jill from the Shannon story. Well, I mean... it IS, but it's not. Ya dig?)**

I hated wearing sunglasses at night. I felt like a total asshole. It wasn't that I didn't want people to recognize me, I just... Ah, fuck it. I didn't want people to recognize me. I was generally a good-natured person - when a fan came up to me, I wouldn't snub them. I would happily do anything for a fan, and that might've been my problem. Or my solution. I don't know, I was never good with math.

I just didn't want to be _seen_. I wanted to get my bag, get my car, and go home. I wanted to step out into the balmy North Carolina air and remember what it was like to be young again. I wanted to take off the hoodie I was wearing - my disguise, if you will - and my sunglasses, and step out of the crowded airport like a normal person would.

I wanted to go back to Matt's and see Jill, see the happy look on her face when I walked through the door. I wanted to smell her perfume and kiss her porcelain skin, run my fingers through her chestnut hair and hold her until she fell asleep in my arms.

"Are you Jeff Hardy?"

Ah, fuck.

I turned around, standing at the baggage claim, and tried to smile at the young girl in front of me. She was probably eighteen, nineteen. She was wearing an Edge shirt.

"Yeah," I said tiredly.

She had something in her hands. She held it out. "Happy birthday."

I blinked. My birthday? My birthday was three days ago. "Oh. Uh... Thank you."

She smiled when I took the wrapped gift, inspecting it. "So. How old are you?"

I raised my eyebrows, sliding my thumb through the tape on the sides of the wrapping. "Um, thirty-one." I smiled slightly, tearing the paper off carefully.

She whistled. "Damn. You look twenty-five, swear on my life."

I grinned, continuing to fumble with whatever she gave me. "Aw, that's real sweet of you."

She shuffled her feet. "I hope you like it. It took me a long time."

I pulled away the last of the tissue paper. "Wow, this is spectacular," I mumbled.

It really was. It was a pictured that she had obviously painted, a photo of me Swantoning. It looked like it had been inspired by Japanese art - my hair was flying behind me like the wind, my hands and feet perfectly proportionate. I had such a look of determination on my face, a glint in my eye. I couldn't tell who I was falling on - they were black, white and shades of gray, as was everything else in the picture. I wasn't in a ring, just a void of dark red and black, exploding behind me. The only thing that was vibrant and colorful was me.

"You like it?" she asked, grinning. She seemed bashful.

I nodded, looking at her. "Yeah. I really do. You're an excellent artist."

"That means a lot."

I reached over and hugged her. She smelled like Jill. "Really. This made me feel a whole lot better."

"I'm glad."

I pulled back and looked at the picture. "Wow. Uh, do you want an autograph? Or a picture?"

She shook her head, starting to turn away. "What you said was what I wanted."

"Wait." I grabbed her elbow. "What's your name?"

She smiled at me. "Maren."

"Do you have a sharpie?"

She nodded, going through her bag. She handed it to me.

I pulled the cap off with my teeth, holding the framed picture out. "Mind signing this?"

She raised her eyebrow. "Jeff Hardy's asking for _my_ autograph."

I grinned. "That's somethin' you don't see every day."

She was already scribbling her name in the corner of the frame, smiling lop-sidedly. "No, it's certainly not."

I handed her the cap back, looking at the picture again. "Wow. Thanks, Maren. Really."

"You're welcome, Jeff. Hope your birthday went well."

I shrugged. "I was on the road."

She sighed. "That's too bad."

"I know." I exhaled heavily. "Well, kid, I better get going."

"Okay. Thanks for... you know. Everything."

I smiled, taking off my sunglasses. I looked at them, then handed them over.

"What's this?" she asked, reaching out to take them.

"Just a thank you."

She smiled, putting them on her head. "Wow. Thanks."

I nodded, grabbing my bag from the floor. But then I dropped it, smiling. "Actually, you know what?" I pulled my sweatshirt over my head, holding it out.

She blinked. "No way."

I shrugged. "I don't mind getting recognized."

She took it, cradling it to her chest. "Jesus Christ. Thank you so much."

I picked up my bag, heading past her. I turned, walking backwards. "No problem. Maren."

She smiled and looked down, blushing. "Happy birthday, Jeff."

I laughed and turned away, pushing through the glass door. The air was warm and sticky, making my shirt cling to me. As I lit a cigarette, my phone started buzzing. I pulled it out and answered it without looking.

"Hello?"

"Sugar, where are you?"

I smiled, blowing smoke into the sky. "Just left the airport."

"Okay, good. Shannon and I have a little surprise for you."

I looked at the picture in my hand, smiling. "Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"Can't tell ya." She laughed. "So. How you feelin'? You're practically a senior citizen."

I snorted, reaching my car. I popped the trunk and threw my stuff inside, looking at the picture once more. I smiled and flicked my cigarette into the dark. "Actually... I don't feel a day over twenty-five."

**A/N: Just a cute little one-shot. I always thought it would be nice to make Jeff Hardy feel good about himself. :D Review if you please.**


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